|
|
|
|
|
|
into pleasure at watching two experts in a magnificent performance. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was thus not difficult to greet Ian's easy waking with a smile, to watch him dress and arm, to ride with him and talk easily of whether they should send for their clothing and change at the castle or whether there would be time to return to their house. Ian insisted on the house, saying with a laugh that he would need to bathe to rid himself of the dust he would be rolled in, and it would not matter if he was a little late for dinner, as, king's champion or no, he did not expect to win the prize for jousting. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
They parted at the edge of the field. Ian rode toward the tent where the jousters could replace their armor if it was damaged, get a drink, or be treated for an injury. Owain and Geoffrey, leading two spare destriers, followed him. Alinor, trailed by Beorn and Jamie and four other men-at-arms, rode toward the loges where seats had been set for the king, those noblemen who were not taking part, and the women. A three-sided, tentlike structure had been erected over the benches to keep off the wind and charcoal-burning braziers warmed the area within. Hot stones were available for the feet of those who felt the cold. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Having dismounted and looked around, Alinor realized with a quiver of distaste that the space left vacant at the king's right was for her. She should have known that it would be so. Ian's appointment as king's champion made it mandatory that his lady be seated in a place of honor. Her heart sank a little as she saw Isobel seated to the left of the queen. She had hoped that she could sit beside her friend, who would offer a word of courage or sympathy to support her, but she lifted her head and came forward to sink into a deep curtsy before the king and another before the queen. Isabella smiled at her quite graciously. She knew her husband did not like Alinor and, in general, she was not overfond of handsome women herself, but Alinor was |
|
|
|
|
|